


sparrows everywhere continued to fall

by fruitwhirl



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, LOTS of comforting, spoilers for 520, the squad's just really worried
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 11:48:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14544084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruitwhirl/pseuds/fruitwhirl
Summary: “I’m so scared, Jake.” Her voice sounds a little broken, fragile.Gently, he presses his lips into her hair, whispers, “I am too.”(jake and amy try to cope)





	sparrows everywhere continued to fall

**Author's Note:**

> spoilers for 520, though primarily from the promo clips. for @nolookfive on tumblr.
> 
> title from eva ibbotson's _the morning gift._

When they process what the gruff, quiet “Diaz, 3118, show me going” means, he glances immediately at Amy, and her eyes flash with a panic that likely reflects the unbridled concern in his. He knows that the fleeting thought of going after Rosa, of putting themselves in harm’s way, also crosses her mind from the quick purse of her lips and the subtle tautness of her jaw. But the moment she recognizes the look on his face—the look on his face that indicates that he’s going to do something reckless—she reaches out, grabs his wrist and mouths a soft “Don’t.” He wants to argue, and he knows that she can see the fight lacing his features, but he nods ever so slightly in concession.

“Santiago is right,” Holt says, his words slow and grave, somehow more serious than normal. “Unfortunately, there is nothing we can do to help Diaz, except carry on with our duties.” And then, softer, “If we receive any request for assistance, we _will_ aid her in any way we can.”

It’s then that the dispatch operator reports an officer casualty, and Amy’s breath hitches audibly. There’s another weighted silence that passes over the small group, over the entire bullpen, and, carefully, Amy’s hand trails down to hold his, to interlace her fingers with his, and he squeezes once, twice. Frankly, he’s not sure if it’s to comfort her or himself; he thinks that perhaps it’s a little bit of both.  

Even if he can’t (or shouldn’t) directly help, Jake resolves to find _some_ way to offer his assistance to Rosa, to the entire situation. He feels Amy’s thumb stroke his lightly, and when he looks over at her again, her brows are furrowed, deep in deliberation—surely, she’s thinking the same thing. They make eye contact, and this time she just worries her lip between her teeth.

Turns out, there’s not much one can do to aid an active shooting without being there. He and Charles attempt to drag street racing into it, as a way to get close to the scene, and it fails miserably. Then, they end up caught up in some trivial case with another detective from another precinct, and it’s all a mess. What’s worse is that when he gets back to the precinct, there’s no news and there are five more casualties and his heart has sunk from his chest to his toes and he stumbles into the break room to see a tired Amy Santiago slumped against the arm of the couch.

Now, having changed into a loose, turquoise blouse and slacks, she looks tired and soft whenever he slowly lowers himself next to her. His hand moves to cup her knee, and, sighing something quiet, she covers it with her own.

“Somehow, it’s even harder to fix a toilet with Gina Linetti than I thought it’d be. How’s your thing going?” Amy attempts at something upbeat, something casual, but the concern bleeds through her words.

He smiles tenderly at her in kind, replies with a general summary of his day, and asks the question they’re both dreading: “Any news?”

The corners of her lips turning down, she shakes her head. He can see in her eyes that her heart is hurting like his, and he moves so that his shoulder is leaning against hers. After a beat, she tucks her head into the crook of his neck, and when his collar grows damp, he thinks that she’s crying. His arm snakes around her back in an effort to bring her closer, and tears prick at his own eyes. Even from the break room, he can hear the police scanner ring out, “Second shooter present.”

“I’m so scared, Jake.” Her voice sounds a little broken, fragile.

Gently, he presses his lips into her hair, whispers, “I am too.”

(Another aspect of all of this is that he _knows_ that Amy was supposed to do rounds in the same area that the hotel is in, was supposed to check on a few of her beat cops, and that she could’ve been responding to that call with Rosa, if only her “mini-Amy,” Gary, hadn’t had an issue with some paperwork and needed assistance.)

It’s three hours and forty-four minutes later when they hear two familiar footfalls on the tile floor of the bullpen, and they rush to see a tired, down-trodden Rosa, standing there with a rip in her jacket and her gun on her hip. At first, no one knows what to say, what to do, relief flooding their chests while rendering them immobile, but then Amy rushes forward and pauses for a moment, apprehensive, before wrapping her up in the tightest hug he’s ever seen Rosa Diaz in. And they all pile on, he and Terry and Charles and Gina and Amy all surrounding her in a group embrace that probably makes her uncomfortable.

But instead of pulling away, Rosa burrows into it all further, clutching at her family, her friends. When they all do finally extricate themselves, her eyes are raw and red in a way he’s never seen before. He doesn’t know why he’s so affected, because he’s been a cop in Brooklyn for over a decade and has been in crossfire more times than he can count, but he thinks that perhaps it’s just never hit so close to home before.

He hugs Rosa again, relishes in the knowledge that his best friend is safe, and when they part, Amy comes up behind him, places her hand lightly on the taller woman’s shoulder, and her eyes are shining with tears.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” she says, voice hoarse.

Rosa nods slowly, unsure. “I am, too.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you think, and catch me at @dmigod on tumblr


End file.
